


So Hold My Hand (Consign Me Not To Darkness)

by Game_of_fandoms



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, At Least When Referring To Themselves, BAMF Arya Stark, Canon-Typical Violence, Dothraki, F/F, Faceless Arya Stark, For A Faceless Man Should Be Genderneutral, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, They/Them Pronouns for Faceless Men, Varying Pronouns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Game_of_fandoms/pseuds/Game_of_fandoms
Summary: A beautiful woman with wild, silver hair and a torn pale blue dress was standing in the middle of the grassy field, surrounded by Dothraki. This is not a threat, the assassin thought while clearly taken aback. Where is the dragon? Just as they were about to give voice to those thoughts, heavy wings started flapping again and it took off to the sky.OrArya is a fully trained Faceless Man, specialized in the Dothraki warriors. While she's on an assignment, the horde she follows comes across a certain silver-haired woman.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 15
Kudos: 301





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from: Broken Crown - Mumford & Sons
> 
> This fic sat in my drafts for several years I decided to reread and adjust it a bit so I could finally post it on archive.  
> I will say I'm quite proud of it and don't believe this has been done yet.  
> I've always admired the faceless men storyline and felt it hadn't been done justice in the show.
> 
> Also note: Dany's storyline started a bit later in this fic, giving Arya more time to become a true faceless man. Arya is around 25 in this story and Dany is 28 in my head.
> 
> Edit (07-16-2020): I reread the chapter after I had posted it and felt the need to change a whole bunch of things for both the continuation of the story and for my own satisfaction. So please reread this chapter if you read the first version.  
> Also everything in _italics_ is said in Dothraki

They felt like a wolf amongst sheep, except they were an assassin amongst warriors. Warriors far different from the ones they grew up amongst, those warriors were stiff and non-compatible compared to these warriors. They would rely on their gear to keep them safe, not their skills.

These warriors were ones that intrigued them. They were wild in everything they did. From their being to their clothing, their fighting, their behavior and their environment. No, those stiff warriors wouldn’t stand a chance against these warriors. These had cavalry like the others had footsoldiers, they treated their horses as part of themselves and oftentimes had more horses than men.

They knew as soon as they first heard about these people and their way of life they wanted to study them up close. Learn their language, their way of life, communication and uphold of culture. They wanted to learn their way of fighting and riding, their way of battle and their way of feasting. They wanted to know and be everything they were.

After training in Braavos for many years and mastering the art of being no one after what felt like a decade, they were asked to choose a field of specialization. Those could be anything, from populations to assassination skills to the training of new students. Their decision was long made, even though their roots gave them an advantage in Westeros, they felt like it was not their path. They were beyond interested in learning of the Dothraki and made their choice clear to the elders. They granted them permission after discussing their concerns of them not being able to master it.

After another two years of studying, they were sent on their first mission to kill a common Dothraki warrior. It didn’t take them long to finish their chore, for the only thing to do was to challenge the man in combat. If he refused, he would be seen as a coward and he would need to cut off his hair for the world to see.

It wasn’t an easy battle, they were wearing the face of a male Dothraki warrior with long hair, so it would be obvious that he was a good fighter. They were trained in the Dothraki fighting style for two whole years, but this man had been fighting like that for his entire life. To not give anything away about their identity they were not allowed to fight using any other styles they possessed, which is an excruciatingly hard thing to do. To consciously not use certain reflexes in a matter of life threatening seconds and use other, newer reflexes in their place.

They almost didn’t survive the dual as the curved blades of the Arakh they both swung nicked their skin at nearly every attack. Until eventually they saw his weight shift on his front leg as his blade missed them, to which they swung their own blade at that very leg and caused him to fall. After that, the damage was practically done as his calf had been sliced through and he was unable to stand. His many seeping wounds soon became fatal and not long after the fight he had bled out. The assassin cut off the man’s hair as a reward and had it braided into a trophy they wore along with their disguise.

After the chore was done, they were forced to return to Braavos to bring them the face of the man they took before burning the body. They were soon offered another mission, this one would require a lot more precision as it concerned the bloodrider of one of the great Khals. They would not be as easy to challenge since these were often the best of best amongst the Dothraki warriors and it usually was an enormous insult to challenge them. Challenging a bloodrider would indirectly mean insulting a Khal and to insult a Khal would be an insult to the entire Khalasar. In other words there would be no way they could challenge Khal Moro’s bloodrider, it would have to be something in the moment, something to appear incidental.

So here they were, riding alongside Khal Moro’s Khalasar, watching and observing the high ranked men of this horde.

Suddenly a strange noise came from the sky, a combination of a bird’s wings flapping and something heavy, they had a hard time describing it. Everyone, including the disguised assassin looked up searching for the cause of the noise. At first they believed it to be a vulture of sorts in the sky, but it seemed to lower to the ground and it just got larger and larger until it covered at least fifteen horses as it flew right over their heads. A dragon. The assassin's former self had always dreamed of the extinct creatures, wondered how they would look, feel and sound. She’d always wanted to touch and see one for herself and in her wildest dreams she’d ride and own one. And here one flew, right over their head.

Khal Moro suddenly gave the order to follow the beast. They noticed a few fast riders speed up to scout ahead and although they were on a mission, they were not about to pass up this opportunity. So they followed the smaller groups of scouts and rode ahead of the Khalasar toward the dragon. It took a lot longer to finally see it land and settle for a bit, this gave them a chance to finally catch up and find out more about this beast. Ahead of them they heard several murmurs calling something ‘paleface’ and the assassin's interest peaked even more than it already had.

Their little cluster of men went around the hill to close in the threat from both sides and once they finally had it in view, the assassin was confused. A beautiful woman with wild, silver hair and a torn pale blue dress was standing in the middle of the grassy field, surrounded by Dothraki. This is not a threat, the assassin thought while clearly taken aback. Where is the dragon? Just as they were about to give voice to those thoughts, heavy wings started flapping again and it took off to the sky.

The woman was being surrounded and threatened by the horde galloping in circles around her. She didn’t appear to be scared or perhaps she wore her masks very well. The assassin was a little taken aback, but guided their horse to follow the rest in circling around the woman.

The circling horsemen spread out once the Khal arrived and the woman was heavy handedly tied up by her hands and dragged behind a warrior’s horse. The Khal ordered the camp to be set up at which everybody immediately started working at. The assassin made sure they kept the woman in sight as they worked on setting up the camp, wanting to know what would happen to her. The woman was being tied up to a pole as the horde settled.

Once the camp was entirely set up the Khal took his seat at his plateau along with his bloodriders and his wives. The assassin made sure to stay within hearing range but not attract suspicion. The leaders of the horde spoke about what they wanted to do to the white-haired woman once she was brought before them. The Khal came close to her and the assassin felt a surge in their stomach at his closeness. However the woman seemed to be capable of holding her own and told them in Dothraki not to touch her. She told them she was the Daenerys Targaryen, the dragon queen and the former Khaleesi of Khal Drogo. The titles she mentioned didn't faze the men, but it was the last title she used that made Khal Moro take a step back and silenced the others.

The assassin was taken aback as well, knowing what the traditions amongst the Dothraki and their Khaleen contained. The woman would not be allowed to be touched by men and she should've stayed in Vaes Dothrak with the Dosh Khaleen.

As expected the men told her she was to be brought back and be judged by the great Khals in their capital. And so, their next destination was laid out.

——- 

During the journey to Vaes Dothrak, the assassin made sure to be on duty of either feeding, guarding or escorting the late Khaleesi. She seemed to recognise the man after a few days. She tried to talk to him, but the assassin made sure to only reply in grunts and short answers. This man made sure she ate, drank and slept, he made sure she was safe and told those that looked funnily at her to get lost. 

The assassin made sure to use another face when they were off duty from the dragon queen and instead kept their eye on the one they were sent for. This way there wouldn't be too many eyes on either of the masks they were wearing.

When they arrived in Vaes Dothrak after two weeks of constant travelling, the assassin was escorting the woman to the housing of the Dosh Khaleen. He told her it would be where she would be staying until the great Khals were all assembled. The woman looked at him in shock, this being the most words he had ever said to her in the two weeks. The man pointed towards the large door and laid his hand on her shoulder to get her moving. They knew no man would be allowed inside and as long as they were wearing this face they would not see what lay inside. 

The silver-haired woman didn't move and looked around the field. It felt like an end station, the emptiness of the sand covered wasteland, the houses built from mud and wood and the looming statues of two horses near the entrance of the city. The woman turned to the man whose face had become familiar and put her small hand on the large scar on his shoulder and said thank you before she went inside.

The man stood staring at the door after it closed for a moment longer, before setting to work. In the capital it was forbidden to carry weapons or even bleed for it would offend the gods. Therefore the murder on this bloodrider must seem like a natural death. Thus he set to work finding himself a secluded dark alley and changing his face and clothes to those of a Dothraki woman. She found the clothes hanging to dry off a line spun near the washing houses. She hid the male clothes behind a boulder leaning against one of the houses, making them untraceable unless you knew where to look. 

She made her way to the large square, where the arrived khalasar would feast until they left on another journey. She scanned the area for a certain face and found it on the other end of the area. The man was laughing and drinking and proudly observing the people around him looking for a mate to spend the night. 

She went up to the man she was sent for and caught his eye quickly. She danced around him, using her hips and arms in order to hold his attention and arouse the man. The man grabbed her with one hand and reached for his crotch with the other. Not wanting to be public, the assassin started whispering in his ear of all the things he would be allowed to do to her if they went to one of the houses that surrounded the square. 

After a while she managed to drag him to an open door leading to a small room that contained a straw bed. He roughly started groping and kissing her and she let him as she guided him to the bed. She sat him down and told him to stay there as she turned around and moved her hips in front of him. Unbeknown to the man, she put a small vial between her teeth with the open end facing out and closed her lips over it. She turned around and noticed the tent in his pants and he started to get up, so before he fully did, she pushed him on his back and straddled him. She quickly captured his lips and pried them open as the liquid poured in his mouth. The assassin had been trained in resisting all kinds of poison and had grown almost immune to this one. It would quickly cause all muscles to slack including the heart when more than five drops were given. The assassin’s lips were numb and she felt a buzzing start in her own muscles and knew that soon the man would pass out and die. His groping got less firm by the second and after a minute his hands fell away and his pulse slowed until it didn't beat anymore.

She climbed off of him and stayed for a little while to make sure he was actually dead and fixed his and her own clothing. She closed his eyes and whispered 'Valar Morghulis', while offering his spirit to the God of Death. 

She took the small blade she had hidden in the leathers of her clothing and started dragging it along the outside of his face. The work was bloody, she knew this. She had taken one of the man's leathers along with a scrap of cloth and had placed those underneath his head. As the blood trickled down the neck of the man, the leather caught it before it stained the straw bed. She delicately peeled the face off and patted the bloodied head dry with the cloth. Rolling the man on his side, faceless head towards the wall and covered him in the furs to hide it from any intruders. She wrapped the extracted face and cloth in the leather piece before leaving the house. 

Leather sheet clad under her arm, she found herself in search of the slave children that ran along the city. She knew what to look for as the children ran around wherever you went in the world. After walking past several small groups of young children, she found a child bearing the marks she was looking for. A long burned mark ran along the little boy's jawline, marking him as one of the spies or communicators of the Iron Bank and the Faceless Men. 

She approached the little boy and stated the words 'Valar Morghulis' to which the little boy replied 'Valar Dohaeris'. She gave him the face she had wrapped up in leather and sent him off with a message in High Valyrian to inform the House of Black and White the deed was done and the debt was paid off. 

She left the boy and passed by a well to fill a bucket with water, before she made her way to the house of the Dosh Khaleen. She made sure to be covered in enough clothes as she walked through the door. The room she stepped into was large, warm and humid. The humming of several elderly women praying sounded through the entire space, but besides that there was surprisingly little talk among the many women. Her eyes immediately scanned the whole room until they found the silver-haired woman sitting alone on a small step. The assassin made her way to the fire and put her bucket of water next to the other ones already placed there. Then she took a little detour to the woman she aimed for to not raise much attention. 

When she neared her, she whispered "Your Grace" and the familiar violet eyes snapped up to find those of an unknown young woman. Her mouth moved in disbelief, but didn’t make any sound. The assassin then proceeded in Dothraki to ask her if she needed to relieve herself.

The woman quickly came along and the two made their way outside as none of the Dosh Khaleen were allowed to go outside alone. They kept their heads down as they walked towards the outskirts of the city.

The queen started talking to her in Dothraki and she answered with the Dothraki yes or no until she was sure they were practically alone. “Are you okay?” The assassin then whispered in the common tongue, startling the khaleesi in her change of language again.

Before the woman could answer the assassin began to notice the presence of two hidden men not far from them. Already preparing herself for an attack, she let herself look surprised when soon after one of them put a dagger against her throat. The silver-haired woman seemed to recognise the men and told them to release her and told them she was not done in this city just yet, after they announced their rescue mission.

After the man that held the dagger reluctantly released her, the queen took her hand and asked her to keep this between them. She nodded and held her violet eyes as they stared back. It gave her a strange feeling that she didn't like, so she looked away to stare at the dust covering her feet.

The woman started telling the men she needed their help barricading the doors of the main building once her trial would be held. The assassin had confirmed that it would likely be at nightfall during their walk here. The silver-haired women told the men she needed them to remain unseen until then. The assassin asked her in Dothraki if she wished to return with her and the woman agreed after hugging the men. 

Once they were out of sight and hearing-distance from the men, she told her she would make sure the escorting guard would be a trustworthy one. The woman looked at her and thanked her with a smile. 

"How do you know the Westerosi tongue?" The Targaryen wondered underneath her breath as they slowly strolled through the paths leading towards the Vaes Dothrak. "Was there something you needed me to know?"

A corner of the assassin's mouth lifted. "Nothing that cannot wait." She whispered.

The silver-haired woman opened her mouth to respond, but they were met by groups of Dothraki and the paths seemed to become more crowded. The assassin gave a slight shake of her head to which the other woman caught on and remained quiet. They kept their heads down for the rest of the way and hurried their step to not rouse suspicion among the late Khaleen. 

She dropped the woman off and made sure she was safe, before she went off to change her appearance back to that of the man that guarded the queen before. That way the woman would recognize and trust him. She also made sure to hide the small blade she had used before in these clothes, just in case.

The assassin went off to find Khal Moro back at the square. The Khal was joined by a number of other men and had one of his wives sitting on his lap. He seemed somewhat distracted by his wife toying with the bells braided in his beard as she seemed to wait for him to finish his meeting. The assassin took a place to guard the men and listened in to their conversation. 

They talked of the new member he had brought to the Dosh Khaleen and how they would decide her fate. She had betrayed their ways and had refused to join the other late Khaleen and therefore was deemed to be punished. Khal Moro called a guard forward and told him to collect three other men to guide the pale Khaleesi to her trial at nightfall. The guard nodded and caught the assassin’s eye and gave him a single nod. 

Good, the assassin thought. 

Night fell not long after and he made his way back to where the queen stayed, along with the three other Dothraki guards. She and several other late Khaleen were already outside waiting for them to retrieve the woman for her trial. He gave a slight nod towards the silver-haired woman and gained a small smile in return as she passed him and walked in the middle of the four men. Halfway through the city she hung back and whispered underneath her breath that he should stay away from the building after she went in. He didn’t respond, but he put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a small squeeze before shoving her forward. 

They made their way over to the large structure that held the important meetings among Khals and shoved the woman inside. The men argued who would stand guard at the doors first and who would take the second shift in an hour. The assassin said he preferred the second as he hadn’t eaten yet and he was granted his wish. It wasn’t even a lie, but he didn’t plan on letting the building out of his sight while the woman remained inside.

During the woman's trial the man waited in a building closeby and stared out the window waiting for what would happen. He sat there for maybe half an hour, before movement caught his eye. In the darkness he spotted two men silently crouching towards the two guards before pounding on them. It had taken the guards by surprise and it wasn’t a long fight before both guards met the forbidden weapons of the intruders. The assassin recognised the men from earlier and watched as they barricaded the doors. 

It wasn’t long after that the building lit up more and more before screams sounded. That was his que to start running towards it and halfway there, he noticed the building had caught fire from within. The two men were long gone and the assassin stared helplessly as the flames lit up the night sky. There was nothing the man could do without being engulfed in flames, so he stood there, watching as the screams slowly faded until there was only the sound of the wood cracking in the fire. He began noticing he was being surrounded by a crowd also staring at the large fire in the middle of the Dothraki city. One that grew larger by the second as all of them watched as the building which housed their Khals fell apart under the heat of the fire.

When suddenly, the doors collapsed and fell away and the naked body of a woman emerged from the flames, completely unharmed and unbothered by her surroundings. He fell to his knees as he realised who it was when his eyes met her violet ones and soon the rest of the gathered crowd surrounding him fell to their knees in surrender to this living goddess. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, no matter how hard he tried as she stood there in all her glory as flames licked her skin from all sides, unable to harm her.

The faceless man silently skimmed through the gods that were known in the House of Black and White. Perhaps the woman was the physical appearance of R'hllor, the god of flame and shadow. They knew the Lord of Light gave their priests and priestesses magic in order to do his bidding, so perhaps she was only a priestess for this deity. Targaryens were known to tolerate heat slightly more than the average human, but stepping out of a fire this large and not be affected by it baffled the assassin. It was simply impossible, Targaryen or not. They were convinced the woman was at least blessed.

Once the flames started to die down the entire city had gathered and kneeled before deity before them. She finally moved from her spot and thousands upon thousands of eyes watched her step forward. She began telling them she would lead them from that day until the end of her days. After her speech, the crowd dispersed and started readying their horses to leave for Meereen. Everyone moved, everyone but the assassin who remained unmoved, on his knees before her. 

The woman made her way over to him. She held out a hand which the man took to stand on his slightly unsteady knees. The woman, this goddess just portrayed a miracle. She set fire to the great Khals and walked out of the flames unscathed. Her man-made clothes were burned down, leaving nothing but her god-created body. The faceless man was unsure what to make of the person in front of them.

_"I must know, were you asked to be among the guards by a woman? To escort me to my trial?"_ She asked in Dothraki. 

_"Yes, Khaleesi."_ Catching on to what the woman was searching for the assassin answered. _"Nawi came to me after she spoke with you outside the city. She asked me to make sure you got there safely."_

The woman seemed reassured and gladly accepted the blanket one of the passing Dothraki women gave to her. _"Thank you for your help, now and before. You seem to have my best interest at heart and I want you to know I am grateful for that."_

_"Don't worry, Khaleesi. I did what I thought best."_ The man said.

_“What is your name?”_

_“Vazzo, Khaleesi.”_ It was the name the assassin had given the face the first time they had used it to perform their first assignment and it was the name they stuck to. The man was born during a storm much like the one he had travelled through during that first assignment.

_“Vazzo, please pack your things and join me as we ride for Meereen.”_ The man answered with a nod and left to do as she said. 

The man went by the washing house once more, grabbing a large cloth from the washlines. He found the large boulder he hid Newi’s clothes behind and wrapped them in the cloth. 

After this, he went for the weaponry and retrieved Vazzo’s arakh and attached it to his belt. Next to the Arakh he also had two daggers hidden in the corner of the hut, knowing they would most likely get stolen if he just left them near his arakh. The weapons were a popular extra resource in the Dothraki fighting style. He attached the daggers to the belt that hung across his chest. 

Securing his weapons and tightening the belts and straps, he made his final stop at the large group of buildings that held the horses. Not unlike the stalls they had in Westeros, they kept the horses safe during storms and made it easier for the Dothraki to find their horse. When the assassin located the stall with four red stripes he retrieved the steed. As the man secured the saddle and wrapped cloth, the horse ate and drank his fill. 

Riding towards the entrance of the city, the man noticed many of the Dothraki had already gathered and were ready to head off. He steered his horse through the crowd, searching for the familiar head of silver hair. When he finally found it he nudged his horse to a trot to reach her faster. 

“Khaleesi.” He announced his presence.

The woman turned around and greeted him with watery eyes. The violet in them became all the more present as she tried to mask her face to a political one. _“Vazzo, you have returned.”_

_“Are you alright Khaleesi?”_ The assassin asked, scanning the surroundings for the possible cause of her rattled state. A figure rode his horse off in the opposite direction they were headed, leaving a trail of dust in his wake as his form slowly disappeared on the horizon.

Looking back, the woman had followed his gaze and remained staring at the clouds of dust that settled slowly. She nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the spot the man disappeared from their sight. 

“Khaleesi,” the man said, breaking the silence, _“what will you have me do?”_

_"You are a great warrior are you not? Your braid reaches your waist and you were among Khal Moro’s personal guards. You were also trusted to guard me, a prisoner and a felon. I have yet to assign my Bloodriders. So I ask you, would you be my Bloodrider while I am the Khal of the Dothraki?"_

_"I would be honoured, Khaleesi."_ The man unsheathed one of his daggers, causing the man behind her to stiffen up. He recognised him as one of the men who barricaded the doors of the city's main building. The assassin sank the blade into the flesh of his hand, letting blood drip on the ground. It was the Dothraki way of offering their blood. _"I, Vazzo, pledge my life in service of Daenerys, Khaleesi of the Dothraki."_

The man handed the blade to the woman silently. Gingerly taking the blade, she made a small cut in her own hand palm. Droplets of blood welled up, coating her pale hand with bright red. She held out the hand before the man grabbed it with his wet hand. The blood mixing between the two, binding their blood to the other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
>  **!!!PLEASE READ!!!**
> 
> Before I uploaded this chapter I rewrote the first chapter of this story. This was because I found the story progressed too quickly and not logically.
> 
> TW: A small encounter involves harassment.
> 
> Also I've written conversations in three languages in this chapter. The common Westerosi language, which will be in a regular font. Dothraki which will be in _italics_ and High Valerian which will be **bold**.
> 
> If you've read the renewed chapter, thank you for continuing reading this story. Hopefully you're as interested as I am how this will play out! 
> 
> Without further ado, here is chapter two:

All around the assassin was chaos. All they could hear was the screaming of their fellow warriors and the thumping of their horses' hooves on the ground as they stormed towards the city gates of Meereen. The Dothraki had been waiting for a good fight, but this was no more than speeding right at your enemy and trampling them to death with your horse and the next horses to come. The assassin wasn't used to an actual battlefield. One on one combat or even a group against one they could handle, but this wasn’t something they were used to. They felt a little lost and all they could do was to hold out an arakh in one hand and a dagger in the other to slice the throats of any passing masters as their horse followed the ones that came before him. 

The warriors were at it all the way until nightfall, before they felt like the streets had been combed out enough to find any remaining masters. The man who had taken it upon himself to watch the Dothraki named Vazzo, Daario, beckoned him to follow him as he made his way to the pyramid. The assassin unwound the pack from the saddle and handed the horse to one of the Dothraki who had joined his scouting group, to ready it for the night.

They had to climb fifteen flights of stairs before they finally reached their apparent destination. It appeared to be sleeping chambers, stacked beds lining the walls with trunks at their feet. Daario began speaking in broken Dothraki. _“This is where you will be staying, you must be suited up at dawn to start your day, understood?”_ Vazzo nodded. _“The higher Dothraki will be staying here as well, you'll have to fight about who gets which bed on your own.”_

Daario turned around and went up even more stairs and the queen's new bloodrider followed. The assassin wondered how many levels there were in this pyramid, it was the biggest building they'd ever seen. It was far bigger than even the highest towers of the castles they'd ever seen or even heard of. Eventually both of them were slightly out of breath, but neither would admit it as they controlled their breathing once they had finally reached their destination. 

In front of them was a large open room, a balcony opened the opposite wall and a table stood in the middle. Several guards lined the rest of the walls, they wore the same clothes and expressionless faces, which gave the assassin a clue what type of guards they were. Unsullied. Ruthless warriors who were trained as children and sold like slaves to follow any of their new master's orders. This meant the queen bought most of her guards, she likely owned many slaves to do her bidding as well. Though during their time scouting the city the assassin hadn’t seen anyone wearing a collar, that didn’t mean slavery didn’t exist. The assassin was aware it wasn’t out of the ordinary in Essos for the higher born or rulers to own slaves, however it wasn’t in line with the values the faceless men stood for.

At the head of the table stood the queen. At the table itself sat a number of other people and the assassin immediately began assessing them and felt their back stiffen a little when they recognised one of the faces. It had been a long time, but no length of time would make them forget the face of a Lannister. Their time as Arya Stark was past but not forgotten and it appeared they still possessed some of the girl's underlying feelings.

"Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to Vazzo. My new bloodrider, who guarded me during my…" The queen paused. "Stay with the Dothraki." 

The assassin made sure to not react to the words, only perk up at his name. Feigning Vazzo's unfamiliarity with the language. 

_"Vazzo these are my counselors, they help me rule. I just explained that you are my bloodrider."_ The queen explained. She then pointed to a woman sitting at the table. _"This is Missandei, she speaks many languages as well as Dothraki. She will help you settle in your duties for the next few days."_

The assassin nodded towards the curly-haired woman. She had kind eyes and seemed to see no threat in the large Dothraki man standing in front of the table. 

The same couldn't be said for others. Not that their discomfort or suspicion wasn't in order. But if they had known what lay behind the façade of Vazzo, they would have had all of the swords and spears in the room pointed at the man's neck. Aside from that, Vazzo did appear very large, with bulking muscles and a great number of scars that claimed space on the span of his skin. He carried multiple weapons and seemed fully capable of using them. 

"With that I end this meeting. All the masters's slaves have freed themselves to live freely in Meereen. The few masters that were left have been sent to deliver the message that slavery will be punished and to refuse will result in fire and blood." The queen concluded. "I expect to receive reports of progress in rebuilding and strengthening the city back to its original state. As well as any progress we make in expanding our fleet and food resources."

A grunted agreement came from the counselors as they were dismissed and left the room. Most of them made an effort to put space between themselves and the large Dothraki. The assassin looked each of them in the eye and gave off a silent warning to not even think of double crossing them. 

_"Vazzo, I would like to formally introduce you to Missandei. She is my advisor and greatest friend, she has agreed to teach you what is expected of my guards and counselors. Any questions you have, you can ask her."_ The queen informed the man in front of her. 

The curly haired woman stepped forward. _"It is good meeting you, Vazzo."_ She said in perfect Dothraki. The assassin wondered where the woman came from, since she didn't look like a typical Dothraki. Then again, neither did the Targaryen queen who spoke the language too. _“I will join you shortly, after Khaleesi has turned in for the night.”_

The man nodded his head. _”I will wait at the Dothraki barracks.”_

Daario waited for the man outside the doors and escorted him back to the barracks with nothing more than a nod.

The barracks were already filled with Dothraki warriors unrolling their furs on the beds. There was but one bed unmade, the man walked towards it throwing the pack he had created from the different fabrics on it. He hid it behind the frame, out of sight from the other Dothraki.

_”Vazzo,”_ Someone called out. He turned around and found a large object flying towards him. He caught it with one hand, it was a bedroll. He looked up and saw the man who readied his horse for the night earlier. Rotto was his name. The assassin smiled and nodded to him in thanks. 

While making his bed, he listened to the conversations going around. Many talked about their past Khals and their untimely deaths. They talked about the new Khaleesi that would lead them now. The opinions were mixed on the subject of their new Khaleesi. Never had any of them been led by a woman before and therefore many thought it wasn’t right. Others found she should marry the strongest man in the new Khalasar, that way they would be led by a man once again. A few found the new Khaleesi was a witch and only followed the others in hopes of overthrowing her. The assassin made sure to remember their faces, in case she noticed a rising movement. 

But there was also talk of how the new Khaleesi would bring them peace. Some would say she was a god, not unlike the assassin’s own thinking. Some of the women whispered she would raise the position of women amongst the Dothraki, giving them more power among their own people. 

_”Can you believe it?”_ A voice said. Turning around the man recognised it to be Rotto. _”That bitch Khaleesi forbade us to take women nor pillage. The other bitch that was sent here on her behalf said so herself.”_ The Dothraki sounded completely appalled with the new rules laid upon them.

The assassin could understand the new rules, they were logical to them. Those were never the parts of the Dothraki culture they really enjoyed, but endured because it was part of the culture they would inherit. The customs were too savage for a city, ones that gave more trouble than could be managed. 

The assassin understood the terms, but knew that a man named Vazzo would not. Or would be thrown off by the news at least. _”What do you mean forbade? What are we to do then? Do we sit still and look pretty for the Khaleesi?”_ The assassin made Vazzo sound worried and angered.

It seemed to have the right effect as Rotto heavily nodded. _”Exactly. We are Dothraki! We do not belong in cities! We travel, pillage, rape, fight and ride! We do not sit still!”_ During the man’s rant, others that stood nearby chipped in and cheered along. It wouldn’t take long for the Dothraki to protest and leave. 

The assassin would admit, they wanted to know who this Targaryen queen was. What she would accomplish and how this would all play out. But the assassin chose the Dothraki a few years ago and dedicated themselves to their culture. Their freedom, their spirit, that is what pulled the assassin to these people. And now that they were finally allowed to be among them, they were forced to drop all their customs and values, because of one single coup? No, though the assassin wouldn’t take an active role in this revolution, they wouldn’t stop it either.

The sound of an armed group approaching caught the assassin’s attention. They put a hand on Rotto’s shoulder and kept their gaze on the door. The men quieted down a little and it didn’t take long before a knock sounded and the door opened. In stepped four unsullied men followed by the slim woman from before, Missandei. 

She smiled kindly and gave the men in the room a nod in acknowledgment. _”Vazzo, if you would join me.”_ The curly haired woman asked.

The assassin nodded. Before they could walk forward, a hand grabbed his forearm. _”Don’t fall for their stories. Remember who we are.”_ Rotto whispered in their ear, before letting go. Vazzo looked in the man’s eye and wordlessly gave him the affirmation he needed.

Vazzo followed the woman a few stories up until they stopped in a dining room. In it was a table laden with food and jugs of likely wine or rum. The woman sat down on one end of the table and Vazzo sat in front of the woman. To the man's surprise two of the guards sat as well and began to eat next to Missandei. The other two stood guard still.

The woman took in the man’s surprise with an amused smile. _”They need to eat as well. But they do not speak Dothraki, so we can still speak privately.”_

_”How do you speak Dothraki? You don’t look like one of us.”_ Vazzo said, more to appease their own curiosity.

_”I speak many languages, amongst which Dothraki. My first master made sure I was able to translate between all his customers.”_ She answered as she took a bite from her food.

Vazzo took a large bite from his chicken leg, before pointing it at her. _”So you are a slave?”_

_”I was.”_

Vazzo frowned. _”You are not a slave anymore? Yet you serve Khaleesi.”_

Missandei smiled once again, a glint in her eye as if she had been waiting for a question like this one. _”No, I am not. And neither are these men or anyone in this city. Khaleesi Daenerys has freed every slave she has ever come across and those who now serve her do so willingly. She has freed us and we will follow her during her reign.”_

No slaves. According to Missandei all slaves were freed by the woman. Everyone supposedly served voluntarily. The assassin wasn’t gullible enough to take one person’s word for it, but their interest was piqued. _”She is a good one then?”_ Vazzo asked. 

The woman gave a small laugh. _”Yes, she is good. Just, but with a kind heart. She intends to forbid slavery throughout Essos.”_

The assassin frowned. It was what a Dothraki would do. They made their purchases with slaves they caught during their pillaging. _”How about us? We use slaves, we find them and we sell them. It is how we live, how we have always lived.”_

Missandei cast her eyes to her plate and furrowed her lips, thinking about her words. _”It will have to change.”_ She mumbled.

_”We don’t change.”_ Vazzo said. _”We are no slaves, we will not adapt to these rules. I’m not saying I would not be capable of change but the Dothraki that came here are several Khalasars merged into one. They will not likely accept these rules or be willing to change.”_

_”Maybe if you give them time they will..”_

_”Have you met Dothraki men.”_ The assassin cut her off. _”Our lives revolve around these things, you cannot lay a few rules on us and expect us to change our entire lifestyle.”_

_”Vazzo.”_ Missandei pleaded, noticing his offstandish tone. _”If you would give me time to console Khaleesi, I will meet you again tomorrow. It will grant you time to think our conversation over and confide in your fellow Dothraki.”_

The both of them rose from their seats. During their conversation the guards had changed in their eating arrangements. The guards that were scooping spoons full of broth into their mouths, now straightened up with their hands on their spears, leaving half empty bowls unattended. 

_”Very well.”_ Vazzo agreed. _”We will meet again tomorrow. In the meantime I will reflect this conversation to the rest of the Dothraki.”_ The man nodded to the former slave and walked out the door.

During their training as a faceless man, the assassin was forced to live without their sight to guide them. Later, their hearing was taken as well as their ability to walk. It was a hard time, but it heightened their awareness through different senses. It was why they heard Missandei let out a conflicted sigh, even though they were far from the door.

The assassin walked down the stairs, past the barracks. The former slave had given them new insight in the Dothraki’s new leader. Though they needed more resources to know whether this applied to more people than just this singular lucky soul. It wouldn’t do to investigate as another Dothraki, they wouldn’t speak any language other than Dothraki. Most of the cities and villages in Essos spoke either High or Low Valerian, both of which Faceless Men were obligated to speak fluently.

Walking down the streets of Meereen, the assassin sought another laundry house. It would likely be near a water source, thus they made their way towards the docks. Wearing the face of Vazzo gave them the challenge of possibly being spotted by either other Dothraki, guards of the Unsullied or councilmen of the queen. Therefore they made their way through narrow alleys and near empty streets. Avoiding looking out of the ordinary, by using a confident stride like most Dothraki men had. 

During his walk he did see a number of Dothraki people standing near fires, drinking and eating whatever they had gotten their hands on. Some acted on their usual habits of taking someone out in the open. Others fought or yelled at one another, but most of them seemed to enjoy their first night in the strange city. A few of them called out to Vazzo, but none of them knew him well enough to keep pushing him to join.

As the scent of salt water got stronger, their eyes began scouring the buildings more accurately. Then, not far from the actual docks they saw an open doorway with women washing clothes inside.

Some of the women gave a small scream when they saw the large, bulky Dothraki man step inside. Others looked petrified and followed his every move and they twitched with every step he took. To show the women they didn’t mean to cause harm, they held up their hands palms facing forward. 

The assassin’s eyes darted across the room. Finding a heap of clothes that seemed to be the unwashed pile. They moved slowly towards it, so as not to startle the women. Looking through the clothes they grabbed a pair of trousers and a long sleeved shirt. Along with that they found a thin cape with holes where the sleeves should have been. The assassin grabbed the clothes and nodded towards the women in thanks. They didn’t dare speak out to the man not to take them. On their way out, the assassin spotted a net that held together a bunch of clothes. They turned it inside out, dropping the contents on the ground before stashing their new clothes in it.

Heading out, they went looking for a secluded quiet spot, where they would not be seen by anyone. Though the night had fallen, drunken sailors and guards stumbled their way wherever the assassin looked. Sighing, they closed their eyes, leant their head back and sent out a small prayer to the Many-Faced god to show them a spot to change faces.

Opening their eyes they were met with a dark sky and the sides of the buildings lining the alley they found themselves in. Then, they were struck with an idea. The buildings weren’t higher than one story and their roofs would make for a well hidden spot. They looked around, seeing only a drunken man puking his guts up near the opposite end of the alley. The assassin grabbed a nearby barrel and used it to scale the wall towards the roof of the little house they had stood in front of.

Moving to the middle of the flat roof, they made sure they couldn’t be spotted on any side. The only place they could be seen from, was the looming pyramid in the middle of the city, but they doubted anyone would spy them from there. Thus they set to changing their clothes to the simple tunic and pants, along with the cape, before dropping to their knees. 

The faceless man moved their hand from the top of their forehead to their chin and felt the mask of a man named Vazzo slip away. Leaving nothing more than the raw face of the assassin and they prayed. 

**’Valar Dohaeris. Thank you for showing this one to a safe place. This one asks you for a new face, one of a merchant, to get to know how the people of Meereen and the people in service to Queen Daenerys Targaryen think of her. To know if she is pursuing the original goal of our people. Perhaps she has and will do well for our cause. To put an end to slavery.’** The assassin prayed to the Many-Faced god. A breeze took up as they waited for an answer, they sat still and let the cool wind brush away the feeling of a scarred, strong, but slender body. The feeling that belonged to their original appearance slowly faded away until they felt the familiar floating feeling of nothingness.

A painting of a face came to the front of their mind. It was the face of a young woman, pretty enough to gain a few stares, but not extraordinarily so. Wide, almond shaped eyes, a slightly off-centered nose and slim lips. The woman had long, straight, black hair that nearly reached her waist. Her skin was a deep tan with stretch marks lining her hips and tummy. 

The assassin reached their hand to their forehead and dragged it towards their chin once more and felt the familiar feeling of a new body taking shape. The Many-Faced god had granted them a new face and with that approved of the usage of it. The assassin had gotten the Many-Faced god's blessing which gave them more purpose in their new mission of discovering the true earth of this silver-haired queen.

**'Thank you, for your generosity. This one will try their hardest to live up to your expectations and deliver new information.'** The faceless man followed up their prayer. 

The face was the last to settle when worn for the first time and once it did, the faceless man would be able to change it quickly like any other face. The assassin looked down their new body and found the trousers a good fit and the shirt a bit tight around the waist and chest area. Nevertheless, they looked every bit a commoner in the unwashed and stained clothes. 

This was Lozen, a merchant girl that used to travel with her father across South-Essos to sell their trinkets. However Lozen's father passed away last fall during a particularly gnarly sandstorm. Lozen had recently decided to set up home in Meereen in the hopes of selling her trinkets in a booth at the market or possibly opening up a shop. Now she was met with the sight of a new ruler and she sought the stories and experiences from the people who met the queen, before she asked for a loan. 

The assassin braided the long hair on either side of their head, hanging them over the woman's shoulders. Rolling the leather clothing of Vazzo inside the net, they laid a heavy rock on top of it, to make sure it wouldn't be blown off the roof by the heavy winds rolling off the sea.

Peeking over the edge of the rooftop, the drunk man that might have seen them scaling the building towards the roof was slumped against the same wall they'd seen him vomiting earlier. Seated with a hand dipping in the puddle of his own retching, loud snores came from deep inside of the man's throat. Searching the rest of the alley for any potential curious eyes or bypassers, the assassin came up with nothing. Pushing themselves up and easing their new body down the house. 

With a little sway of the woman’s hips, the assassin made their way to the nearest inn. They ordered an ale and sat down in one of the few empty booths. Situating themselves so they had a good view over most of the room. Taking a sip from the cup, they scanned the people gathered at the bar. Most were merchants and traders, the assassin recognised the simple clothing that often contained bits and pieces from different cultures. A large amount seemed to be the common people, yet they all seemed to be from different cultures. The assassin guessed most of these would have likely come along with the Dragon Queen to her new city, like Misssandei had said. Those were stories the assassin was interested in, the tales of the common people affected by the deeds of the Targaryen, the former slaves and those who now served the woman personally. 

Taking a few larger gulps of their drink as they roughly sketched out a route they would take in investigating the stories of the people in their immediate surrounding. Holding on to the ceramic cup, they began sauntering towards the bar, where their first target was seated. 

A middle-aged man, black curly hair and slightly torn clothes sat on the chair next to the one the assassin now occupied. The man swirled the drink in his hand around, before taking a large swig. He didn't seem drunk yet, but he had drunk enough to talk easily.

**"Rough day?"** The assassin asked in High Valerian.

The man chuckled. **"Not more than any other day."** He answered. **"I have not seen you here before, have I?"** He said after taking a better look at his drinking companion.

**"No,"** the assassin said, **"that would be unlikely. I only recently moved to Meereen. I am Lozen."** Holding out a hand to the man.

The man lightly grabbed the woman's hand and pressed his chapped lips to the back of it. **"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lozen. I am Maqi. What has brought you to our lovely Meereen?"**

**"Oh, I have always travelled, with my father as a merchant. But he recently passed away and I decided I wanted to settle somewhere. I had heard rumours of the new ruler of Meereen and it sounded like a promising city to build myself up. What is it you do?"**

**"Ah yes, our new queen does have a reputation, doesn't she. I am a fisherman, I sail the seas near Meereen and return to sit and drink in this very bar."**

**"Could you tell me more about the queen?"** The assassin asked. **"I've been wondering whether or not I should ask for a loan or a favour from the queen. It would help me start up a stall, but I'm not sure what to believe from the many stories I've heard about her."**

The man pursed his lips and thought over his words. **"Well, my opinion is mostly based off of stories as well, but I've noticed the changes she's brought to this city. They say she's freed every slave she's ever come across and punishes the masters who've abused them for years. I'm unsure how true that is, but I do know she forbade it here in Meereen. I've also talked to a bunch of pretty ladies that told a similar story of their experiences from wherever they came from."** He paused. **"So I believe she's fair and will probably at least consider your request. Well, when you manage to get an audience with her of course."**

**"What do you mean, manage?"** The assassin inquired.

The man barked out a laugh. **"Why, everyone in this city wants an audience with the woman. She's taken the slaves from the masters, so now they have no employees. She's set the slaves free, who now must find jobs. She has one roaming dragon, which apparently burns down crops and cattle. And then recently, half the city has burnt down during the revenge attack orchestrated by the masters on the city, including our fishing boats."** The man took another swig from his ale, before continuing. **"There are many things imperfect about the situation right now. Though I do believe she tries her best and has good intentions. I mostly hope I can get back on the sea again."**

**"Thank you, I will consider it. You've been a great help, let me know if I can do anything for you."** The merchant girl smiled.

**"Head off?"** The man asked, a bit thrown off. **"Where are ye going? We were having such a good time?"**

**"Well I must get to know the people in the city, if I want to start my own shop here. I should start with just talking to them."** The assassin excused. The merchant girl was an inspired girl, who took opportunities with both hands. Or, well that's how the Assassin imagined the girl would be.

**"Oh, come on now. Don't leave me just yet."** The man put his hand on the woman's upper arm, to convey his feelings about the matter. **"We were just getting to know each other. Plus, I have a few ideas on how to make it up to me."**

A feeling of discomfort came from within the assassin. If only they weren't portraying a young woman, then they would punch the man's face right away. **"Oh."** Came the girl's response. **"No, I'm good, I see my friend over there. We said we would meet up."**

The man looked in the general direction the woman had looked towards. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary and no-one paying any close attention to the pair, his hand tightened on her arm. **"I'm sure your friend can wait a bit."**

Feeling a flare of anger well up inside of them, the assassin leaned closer to the man. **"If you do not unhand me right now, I'll make sure you regret it."** They whispered in his ear.

Not believing the threat, the man let out a pleased grumble, when the woman had stepped closer. His other hand crept to her waist and the assassin felt a shiver going down their spine at the action. **"What are you going to do then, huh?"**

A smirk found its way onto her face as the words fell off the man's tongue. "This one knows a few things." They answered. Taking a less violent route to match the character of Lozen, they firmly pressed their pointer and middle finger down the center of his throat. The man reared back, gagging. His hands detached from the woman's body to reach for his throat.

Quickly leaving the man, before he had the time to recover and walked out of the inn. The route they'd planned out be damned. The fisherman was likely angered by the woman's action and hanging around near him would only cause more trouble for the assassin.

Walking down three streets, they passed more drunk people. The assassin never gave much for the rush of alcohol, finding the way it affects the perception, coordination and reaction outweigh the short lasting surge of confidence it gave.

Another woman walked in the same direction as the assassin. She walked alone, but didn't necessarily seem in a rush to get to her destination. Her skin seemed an olive tone, but had some discoloration around the neck. She seemed to be a former slave. The lightness circling her neck, where her tan had never formed. The assassin assumed it was because of the recently removed collar. Speeding up their pace, the assassin caught up to the woman and walked beside her.

**"Hi."** The assassin said once they had come near enough to not have to yell in order to get her attention. 

**"H-hello?"** Came the startled response.

Giving her an innocent smile, the assassin continued. **"I am terribly sorry for disturbing you. You see, I am new to this city. I had just ran from a man that kept troubling me, but I'm afraid I've gotten myself lost now."** The assassin huffed out an exasperated breath. **"Would you be able to help find my way back?"**

The woman seemed uncomfortable, she fumbled with her fingers and her feet slid from side to side. **"W-where do you need to go?"** She stammered.

**"Oh, Mother. I wouldn't know exactly what it's called, but I was at a inn earlier. I don't think it was very far from here, but I was in such a daze."** The assassin let their eyes grow wider. **"Would you maybe walk me back for a bit? I'm scared to run into him again, and I'd feel safer with a second person around."**

**"Well,"** The woman started. **"I also need to be…"**

**"Please."** The assassin pushed. **"Just a little while, it would really help me."**

The woman's eyes flicked from the merchant girl to the alley she had come from and back. She seemed to consider it. **"Alright, fine. I'll walk you until you recognise your surroundings again."**

**"Thank you so much."** The assassin excitedly proclaimed. **"My name is Lozen."**

The two women began walking in the direction they'd come from. **"Zohra."** The woman said curtly.

**"Can I ask you a question, Zohra?"** Not waiting for a response, the assassin continued. **"I have very recently arrived here in the hopes of setting up a stall or a shop in this neighborhood. I would like to ask the ruler for a favour."** Only gaining a sideways glance, the assassin pushed on. **"What do you think of the Meereeneese queen?"**

The woman licked her lips and her eyes flitted back and forth. She turned her head a few times, seeming to survey the area. Then she looked at the merchant girl with wide eyes. **"I cannot speak of her. She may have freed us, but the Harpies still hide in every corner. We may have ridden our collars, but all of us still live in fear."**

Taken aback, the assassin let herself look more scared and joined the woman in searching the alley for any unwanted ears. **"I have heard of them when I came inside the city. I just thought they would be gone, now."** Lozen whispered.

Zohra's head nodded ever so slightly. **"I still do everything I did when I wore my collar. Now the masters tell the guards when they come check, that they pay me for my work. I believe the queen has good intentions, but the class-systems are rooted too deeply for one person to change."** The woman whispered, while constantly looking around herself. 

The assassin almost told her it made her look even more suspicious, but kept their mouth. The woman seemed tense enough as it was and the comment would only add to that. The assassin was grateful for the information provided by the woman. Having seen the Harpies in action, while wearing the face of Azzo, they understood the risk the woman had taken.

Not wishing to bother the woman for much longer, the assassin spoke up. **"I think I recognise this block. If I follow this street, I should come across an inn, right?"**

**"Yes, that's right."** The woman nodded.

The assassin touched Zohra's arm and lightly squeezed it. **"Thank you. Few would have been kind enough to help me out."**

Through the darkness of the night, the assassin noticed the woman's cheeks darkening. **"It was nothing, get home safely."** She said kindly.

**"You as well and good luck. I hope things get better for you."**

The woman gave a small wave, which the assassin returned, before she walked back in the direction they'd come from. 

The assassin noticed the pull of fatigue, drag around their eyes. Deciding to call it a night, they walked back to the house they'd received this face. Climbing to its roof after scouting the dark street for a possible bystander. The man who had earlier been passed out near the end of the street, was gone now. His slowly drying retching was the only evidence of his presence.

The assassin changed faces and attire, before hiding the merchant clothes in the bag. Making sure the clothes wouldn't likely be found or blown off the roof, the assassin made their way back to the pyramid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you know if there is an easier way of using italics and bold on archive instead of writing out the full HTML codes, please let a girl know! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first bit of this story! 
> 
> In case anyone is interested, Vazzo's name is lead from the Dothraki word Vaz, which means storm.
> 
> Nawi's name is one I once did some personal research for, when making character files for a fic I have eventually never written. Her name is that of the last known Dahomey Amazon or Mino, who were an all female military regiment in West Africa. At the time I was very invested in finding out about historical fighting women and felt the need to include a number of unknown tribes and places where women fought.


End file.
